


The Blessing

by ghost_writer26 (kinksock22)



Series: Curse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Dean, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Angsty Schmoop, Barebacking, Bottom Sam, Established Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mating, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mpreg, Omega Sam, Rimming, Self-Lubrication, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-08
Packaged: 2018-05-25 13:52:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6197533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinksock22/pseuds/ghost_writer26
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Winchesters kill the witch that cured Sam and turned him into an omega, the brothers have to deal with telling Bobby and Sam’s second heat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blessing

**Author's Note:**

> Written on 10/12/13 on livejournal under ghost_writer26. Un-beta'd.

Once Sam’s heat ends almost two days later, they set out to find the witch that cursed him to begin with. It takes two weeks of nonstop tracking and two dead bodies before they find her. If she’s surprised to see Sam alive, she doesn’t show it. But then again, Dean doesn’t give her a chance to do anything, ends up shooting her right between the eyes before she can take a breath to speak. The curse may not have killed Sam but it came damn close. Besides, no one fucks with Sam and gets away with it.  
  
Dean sighs when his phone rings –  _again_  – and he sees that it’s Bobby. The older hunter has been calling several times a day for the last two weeks, messages getting steadily more concerned and angrier in equal measures.  
  
“You know we can’t avoid him forever,” Sam says softly, curling up against his side, nuzzling under Dean’s jaw.  
  
Dean wraps his arm around Sam’s shoulders and curls his hand into a loose fist in the back of his little brother’s hair. “I know,” he sighs, turning his head enough to press a kiss to Sam’s forehead.  
  
Sam looks up, smiling softly when Dean kisses the corner of his lips. “He’s worried about you, Dean,” Sam continues. “Probably thinks you’re mourning me and drinkin’ yourself into a coma. Or doin’ something stupid to get me back.”  
  
Logically, Dean knows that Sam’s right. Bobby has been like a father to them since their dad died, close as family even before that, and he knows that he’s just worried about him. Dean’s not worried so much about himself, he can handle whatever Bobby wants to say to him. What worries him though is the thought that he might say something to Sam and upset him. Even as an alpha, Sam was more sensitive than him and that’s only gotten worse since he was turned.  
  
“We should go see him,” Sam continues quietly. “Let him know that we’re both okay.”  
  
“Can’t we just call him?” Dean asks, refusing to admit that he’s whining.  
  
Sam chuckles softly and snuggles closer. “No. You know he won’t believe that you’re really okay unless he can see you.” Sam turns on the lethal puppy eyes full-force. “Please? For me, Dean.”  
  
Dean always had a hard time denying his brother anything. And it’s only gotten worse since they mated, the alpha in Dean wanting to do anything he can to please his sweet, beautiful mate. “Fine,” he huffs.  
  
The beaming smile he gets in return is worth it. Mostly.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Sam stands just behind Dean as he knocks on Bobby’s door, one hand curled into the back of his t-shirt. Dean’s not sure if it’s for reassurance – for both of them – or to keep Dean from turning tail and running.  
  
Bobby’s eyes widen comically when he opens the door and sees them standing there, his gaze darting back and forth between them for a moment before his shoulders slump slightly. “What’d you two idjits do?” he sighs tiredly.  
  
Dean reaches behind himself and grabs Sam’s wrist, tugging him gently into the house, pressing a hand to the small of Sam’s back when he stops just inside the door. “Go on,” he urges softly, pushing Sam toward the kitchen.  
  
Sam frowns and shakes his head. “No. Dean…”  
  
“Seriously,” Dean cuts him off, jerking his chin toward the other room. “’mma talk to Bobby, okay? Just… wait for us in there?”  
  
Sam’s frown deepens and Dean’s hit with the bitchiest of Sam’s bitch-faces. He knows without a doubt that he’s going to pay hell for this show of alpha machoism once they’re alone.  
  
Dean watches for a moment as Sam – reluctantly – heads toward the kitchen before turning to Bobby, following him into the study. Dean gratefully takes the shot of whiskey that Bobby offers, thankful for the liquid courage even though he knows it’s watered down with holy water. Bobby flops down into his chair and watches Dean drink, his eyes narrow.  
  
“Okay, boy,” he starts, tone gruff, once Dean sits the empty shot glass back onto the desk. “Spill. How’s your brother still breathing air?”  
  
Dean shrugs one shoulder, huffing a sigh. “I mated him,” he says simply, no sense beating around the bush.  
  
“You did  _what_?” Bobby growls.  
  
“You heard me,” Dean snaps back. “C’mon, Bobby. Like I was just gonna let him die? Are you really that surprised?”  
  
“So because you couldn’t stand to be alone, you forced your brother into letting you knot, letting you  _mate_ , him?”  
  
Dean growls and leans forward. “I didn’t force him into anything. You know I’d never do that. It was… mutual.”  
  
“The boy was in the throes of a heat haze and facin’ death,” Bobby grits out. “How mutual could it’ve really been?”  
  
“Stop it,” Sam snaps, hovering in the doorway. Dean and Bobby both turn to look at him and Dean’s eyes widen at the glimpse of the alpha his brother once was barely shining beneath the surface of his glittering hazel-green eyes. “Both of you just stop it.” He turns to Bobby, his features softening slightly. “You know that Dean wouldn’t ever hurt me. ‘specially like that. He’s right, it was mutual.” He glances at Dean, shaking his head. “Give him a break, De. ‘m sure it’s a lot to take in.”  
  
Dean and Bobby glance at each other, both their hackles still raised but obviously put in their place by Sam.  
  
“’m sorry,” Dean mutters, rubbing at the back of his neck.  
  
“Yeah,” Bobby sighs. “Me too, kiddo. Sam’s right. It… It’s just a lot to digest right now. I know you were just lookin’ out for him, like you always do… But, I mean… Is this really what you both wanted?”  
  
Sam walks further into the library and drops down into the seat next to Dean. “Yeah,” Sam says softly, glancing over at Dean again. “I mean, sure, it’s not conventional but it… We both wanted it. Before the curse even happened it turns out,” he adds, a delicate pink blush creeping across his cheeks. Dean’s hit with the sudden, overwhelming urge to pull Sam into his arms, to protect him, even from Bobby. He curls his hands into fists to keep from reacting to the need to touch, to soothe, knowing without a doubt that even if by some chance that Bobby ends up being okay with this, he’ll definitely not want to  _see_  it.  
  
Bobby huffs a sigh, his gaze darting between the two of them again. “Honestly, I guess I really shouldn’t be surprised,” he mutters. “The two’a you were always closer than you should’a been as alpha siblings. And it does make a certain amount of sense. Hell, ‘s not like y’all could ever be separated long enough to mate with someone else. Or even find someone given the life.”  
  
“So… you’re okay with it?” Sam asks softly, hopefully.  
  
“’m not gonna lie and say ‘s my first option for either’a ya. Or that ‘m even comfortable with it. But that… It don’t change nothin’, boys. You two’re family. And ya always will be,” he pauses, holding one finger out in warning toward Dean, “Doesn’t mean I wanna see it, hear it, or for it to happen in m’house.”  
  
“Why’re you yellin’ at me?!” Dean huffs.  
  
“’cause,” Bobby grumbles. “I know you. And your brother’s always been the good one.”  
  
Sam throws his head back and laughs, his eyes twinkling. Dean can forgive the barely-veiled insult if it results in that response from his brother.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
After their talk, they left Bobby’s, wanting to give the older hunter time and space to really wrap his head around things. After a few weeks, everything was back to normal; meeting up for hunts, calling for research or backup if either needed it, crashing at Bobby’s when they were close enough to get there.  
  
Things were going well enough that Dean should have been prepared for the other shoe to drop.  
  
They were literally in the middle of a hunt – a damn shape shifter, no less – and Sam drops to his knees, curling in on himself, his arms wrapped around his stomach. Dean panics and rushes to his brother’s side, not even caring that they were in the middle of chasing the damn thing.  
  
“Sammy?” Dean snaps, concern making his voice hard.  
  
Sam whimpers and cringes away. That’s when the smell hits Dean hard; that thick, sickly-sweet, spun-sugar scent of Sam’s heat. “Fuck,” he growls, fishing his phone out of his pocket. Bobby answers on the second ring and Dean starts talking before the older hunter even says hello. “Bobby, ‘s Dean. Sam’s in heat and we’re in the middle of a Goddamn hunt.”  
  
“Shit,” Bobby breathes. “Can you finish it?”  
  
“’s a ‘shifter,” Dean grumbles. “I lost him when Sammy went down.”  
  
“What the hell’re you doin’ huntin’ this close to your mate’s heat?”  
  
“Fuck, Bobby, ‘s only his second one! ‘m not used’ta havin’ to keep track’a that shit.”  
  
“Okay, son,” Bobby soothes. “Calm down and get your brother outta there. ‘m about a day out, I’ll be there soon as I can to take care’a the hunt. You take care’a Sam.”  
  
“Yeah,” Dean breathes, running one hand over the back of Sam’s sweat-soaked hair, pulling his head closer to Dean’s chest, hoping his scent will help to calm his brother a little. “I’ll call you when I can.”  
  
“Just look after your brother, ya idjit.”  
  
Dean hangs up and gently nudges Sam’s head back enough to look into his eyes. “C’mon, baby,” he murmurs softly. “Gonna get you outta here and take care’a you.”  
  
Sam shakes his head, weakly pushing Dean away. “No,” he mutters softly. “Go finish it. I’ll be okay.”  
  
“No way,” Dean growls. “Bobby’s on his way and there’s no way in hell ‘mma just leave you alone to suffer.”  
  
Watery, miserable, dazed hazel eyes blink up at him. “Sorry, De,” he whispers.  
  
“Shh, little brother,” Dean coos. “Nothin’ to be sorry for…”  
  
“Should’a known,” Sam argues petulantly.  
  
“I didn’t either. We’ll keep better track next time.” Dean drops a kiss to Sam’s feverish forehead. “Can you walk?”  
  
“Think so,” Sam slurs.  
  
Dean helps his brother to his feet, steadying him when he wobbles. “Sorry, kiddo. Don’t think you’re gonna be able to.”  
  
Sam grunts when Dean picks him up, burying his face in Dean’s neck despite his protests. “Dean…”  
  
“Fuck, this was easier when you were a pup,” Dean grumbles. Even with his strength as an alpha, it’s hard to carry Sam – his brother may be an omega now but he’s still freaking huge, height and muscle that still puts Dean to shame. He manages to get them out of the sewer and to the Impala, his chest heaving and his arms and legs trembling as bad as Sam’s.  
  
He sets Sam down in the passenger’s seat as gently as he can, his heart aching when Sam whimpers when he moves away. “’s okay, baby,” he murmurs. “Just gotta get in my side and get us back to the room.”  
  
Sam looks up at him, his bottom lip trembling slightly, and nods. Dean rushes around the car and slips into his own seat, one hand reaching out to grab Sam and pull him close as he awkwardly starts the car with the other. The engine roars to life and gravel spews behind her as Dean takes off.  
  
Sam snuggles up close to him, nuzzling under his jaw. “D’n’t think this one would be s’bad,” he murmurs.  
  
“’s only your second one, Sammy,” Dean reasons. “’m sure they’ll get easier.” He pauses, inhaling deeply, his cock twitching and hardening even more at the scent of Sam’s arousal. “Is it that bad?” he asks softly.  
  
“Hurts,” Sam whispers.  
  
“Where?”  
  
“Everywhere,” Sam’s lips slide down Dean’s neck, nibbling gently at his pounding pulse. “M’stomach aches and m’head’s fuzzy and my…” Sam trails off, burying his face further into Dean’s neck.  
  
“Your what?” Dean urges, hoping if he can keep Sam talking it’ll distract him from the discomfort at least a little.  
  
“’m wet,” he whispers. “And sticky. I can… I can feel m’self clenching around nothin’.”  
  
Dean clenches his jaw, his cock  _throbbing_ , pressing painfully against his zipper. “Not much further,” he mutters absently, not sure who he’s trying to reassure, Sam or himself, and tightens his arm around Sam’s shoulders.  
  
Sam slides his hand over Dean’s upper thigh, his long fingers brushing the heavy swell of his balls, the beginning of his knot. The moan his little brother lets out is filthy and pornographic, half-pained, half-need. “Hurry, De,” Sam groans. “Need you.”  
  
“I know, baby boy,” Dean rasps. “’m sorry, Sammy. We’re almost there,” he promises, pushing down a little harder on the accelerator as Sam starts to knead his cock through his jeans.  
  
Dean almost cries with relief when he sees their motel, slamming on the brakes and quickly turning off the car. He fumbles with his door, dragging Sam out his side when he finally gets it open. Sam’s arms are wrapped around his shoulders, his lips sliding wet and messy over Dean’s cheek and jaw, and Dean’s once again forced to carry most of his brother’s not inconsiderable weight.  
  
They stumble into the room and Dean has just a moment to close and lock the door behind them, quickly checking to make sure they didn’t disturb the salt lines, before he’s shoved against the wall, six foot four, two hundred pounds of desperate little brother pressing against him, pawing at his clothes.  
  
“Please, Dean,” Sam whines.  
  
Dean grabs Sam’s shaky hands and pulls them away. “Easy, Sammy,” he soothes softly. “I got this, okay?”  
  
Sam whimpers again but stands still long enough for Dean to quickly strip them both. Sam’s cheeks are flushed, his eyes big and glazed-over, a thin ring of hazel around inky-black pupil, and his lips are parted with his panting breaths, his chest heaving like he just ran an uphill marathon. There’s a sheen of sweat covering his entire body and his muscles flex and shift beneath his too-hot skin with every minute twitch. He’s hard, his cock thick and sticky-wet where he’s leaking pre-come. Dean takes just a moment to let his gaze sweep over him, taking in the whole package, still unable to really believe that Sammy is his, that he chose Dean.  
  
Sam allows him to stare for just a moment before inching closer again, his big hands gripping Dean’s hips, his hot, wet mouth smearing across Dean’s collar bone. “Please,” he whispers.  
  
Dean wraps his arms around Sam’s shoulders and walks him backward toward the bed, one hand buried in Sam’s hair, using the hold to urge his head up so that Dean can slide their lips together. Sam moans into his mouth, the kiss instantly turning hot and dirty, more tongue and teeth than lips. They collapse onto the mattress together in a heap of tangled limbs, Sam clawing at Dean’s back as they continue to kiss.  
  
Sam’s the first to pull away, gasping for breath, his head pressing back into the pillow, arching his neck. Dean dips his head and slides his lips and teeth along the long, tan column of sweat-slick skin. Sam fucking  _keens_ , one hand coming up to grip the back of Dean’s neck.  
  
Dean smirks and nips at the curve of Sam’s shoulder, his cock twitching when Sam moans like he’s fucking  _dying_ , and tilts his head back even more. “Please,” he gasps.  
  
Mating bites are mostly a thing of the past; archaic and barbaric and only true traditionalists still practice the animalistic ritual. Dean never really gave it much thought before. Granted, he bit Sam the first time but it was just a bite, not a claiming one. But now, the thought of marking Sam up, of permanently having his visible claim on Sam, makes him a little crazy.  
  
Dean licks his lips and presses a kiss to Sam’s thundering pulse. “Later,” he promises, barely a whisper.  
  
Sam squirms beneath Dean, flipping over onto his stomach. Dean pulls away, brow furrowed as he cups Sam’s hip. “Sammy?” he asks softly.  
  
Sam pushes up onto his knees, his legs spread wide, his forearms braced against the mattress. Dean shifts over so that he’s kneeling between Sam’s legs, groaning at the sight of Sam’s natural lubrication oozing from his entrance, the thick, clear liquid leaking enough so that the tops of Sam’s thighs are shiny-wet.  
  
Dean dips down and slides his tongue up the cleft of Sam’s ass, the taste of his mate just as intoxicating as the smell – sugary-sweet and thick – and Dean buries his face between Sam’s cheeks, licking and sucking at Sam’s rim, chasing that unique flavor.  
  
“Jesus  _fuck_!” Sam cries out, his body trembling, his back arching as he thrusts back against Dean’s tongue. “Dean, please… I can’t… You have’ta…  _More_.”  
  
Dean groans and rubs his face against the damp skin, his lips and chin covered in Sam’s slick. “Taste so good, baby,” he growls.  
  
“Fuck me,” Sam blurts out, pushing himself up onto his palms, awkwardly looking back at Dean. “Please, c’mon. Fuck me…”  
  
Dean nips at the curve of Sam’s ass, swirling his tongue around his rim a few more times, Sam’s body opening up to him easily. “ _Alpha_ ,” Sam breathes. A violent tremor shoots through Dean, a fresh burst of heated blood surging to his painfully-hard cock. He honestly doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing Sam say that, especially when he says it like  _that_.  
  
Dean sits back on his heels and presses two fingers against Sam’s wet, loosened entrance, watching in awe as they sink right in to Sam’s body like a hot knife through butter. Sam groans, equal parts petulant little brother and impatient mate, and it makes Dean’s head spin. “C’mon. Need  _you_. Please, De.”  
  
If Sam wasn’t in heat, Dean would continue to tease and push his brother further and further toward the edge only to draw him back, over and over again. But as it is, he can’t stand the thought that Sam’s in pain. He’ll save the teasing for another night.  
  
Removing his fingers, Dean lines up the head of his cock and pushes forward, not stopping until he’s buried all the way. Sam practically screams, his arms collapsing, his chest hitting the mattress. Dean drapes himself along Sam’s back, one arm wrapped around his waist, the other holding his weight and pressing into the mattress near Sam’s head, and instantly picks up an almost brutal rhythm.  
  
Dean shifts the angle of his hips just slightly, groaning when Sam’s inner muscles flutter as his cock brushes against his prostate. “Fuck, feels so good, Sammy.” Sam merely grunts in response, his hips snapping back against Dean’s almost hard enough to sting. Dean shuffles forward more, getting his knees almost completely under Sam and slides the hand pressing against his stomach up to his chest. “Can you sit up for me?” Dean rasps.  
  
Sam’s head is hanging down between his broad shoulders but Dean sees him nod. With his help they manage to get Sam up on his knees, his legs spread wide over Dean’s thighs. “Grab the headboard,” Dean urges. They scoot a little closer to the head of the bed and Sam grabs the wooden slats, his head falling back to rest of Dean’s shoulder. “That’s it, baby boy,” Dean praises softly. His hands slide up the inside of Sam’s thighs, his fingers brushing against the heavy swell of Sam’s balls, then further back, sliding through Sam’s slick and feeling where they’re connected.  
  
Sam is essentially writhing in his lap, the rolling of his hips erratic but it feels fucking  _amazing_. Leaving one hand touching Sam’s rim and his own cock, Dean slides his other hand up, grabbing Sam’s hip hard enough to bruise. He pulls Sam down hard, grinding his hips up, urging Sam’s hips to grind down against him.  
  
“Oh,” Sam breathes, turning his head to press a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to Dean’s jaw. “Fuck… _Dean_.”  
  
“’m close, baby,” Dean half-warns. “Feel m’knot, Sammy?”  
  
“Mmhmm,” Sam hums in response, his hips moving in jerky, tight figure-eights. “Want it,” he murmurs, nuzzling under Dean’s jaw with his nose.  
  
“Gonna get it,” Dean rasps, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Sam lifts himself up slightly and slams back down, fucking himself on Dean’s cock, his almost-full knot catching on Sam’s entrance. Sam mewls, repeating the motion again and again until he can’t pull away anymore, once again merely grinding his hips.  
  
“Gonna…” Sam chokes out.  
  
“C’mon, little brother,” Dean purrs against his ear. “Come for me.”  
  
Sam cries out hoarsely when he comes, his untouched cock jerking and pulsing as he erupts, bursts of his pearly-white release hitting his quivering stomach. Dean’s knot swells completely, Sam’s slick inner muscles clenching and fluttering around him. Dean nudges Sam’s jaw with his nose, urging his mate to bare his neck. As soon as Sam does, Dean bites down hard on the curve of his shoulder, sharp canines breaking the skin. The coppery tang of Sam’s blood –  _their_  blood – hits Dean’s taste buds and he groans, his cock and knot pulsing almost painfully as he unloads inside Sam’s still trembling body.  
  
Like someone cut the strings on a puppet, Sam goes boneless in his embrace, whimpering softly when Dean finally lets go of his neck. Dean licks over the sluggishly bleeding mark, humming in satisfaction, his inner alpha preening and roaring with the act of marking his mate. Sam turned his head slowly, blinking sated, sleepy hazel eyes at him.  
  
“You okay?” Dean asks softly, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of Sam’s lips.  
  
“For now,” Sam breathes.  
  
Dean kisses him again, sweet and chaste, before tightening his arms around Sam’s middle and maneuvering them onto their sides. Sam whines softly when the movement tugs on Dean’s knot but Dean rubs at his chest as he moves, pressing kisses to the back of his neck and his shoulder. Once they’re settled on their sides, Sam tucked warm and safe and – for the moment – sated in the cradle of his hips and arms, Dean closes his eyes, his lips pressed to the back of Sam’s neck. Sam sighs softly, content and sleepy.  
  
“Get some rest, Sammy,” Dean murmurs, his hand pressed against Sam’s heart, his thumb brushing back and forth over the sweat-slick skin. He smiles when his answer is nothing but a soft snore.  
  
He lies there quietly while Sam sleeps, his mind racing, as his knot keeps them tied together. They’re going to have to figure something out regarding Sam’s heats and hunting, that is for sure. Dean just isn’t sure what else they can do besides keep track of it and take a few days off.  
  
Sam shifts slightly in his sleep, an adorable snuffling sound breaking into the silence surrounding them. Dean shushes him softly, wrapping tighter around him, burying his nose in the back of Sam’s silky-soft, chestnut-colored waves of hair. He inhales deeply, wanting to catch a whiff of that sweet Sammy smell. It is there like always but beneath it – and the scent of Dean himself – there is another, more subtle scent.  
  
Dean’s brow furrows and he inhales again, his nose twitching at the foreign scent. He gasps when a long forgotten memory hits him – a twenty-four year old memory – of himself sitting in his mom’s lap, his nose buried in her neck as he scented the difference about her. That was the day that they told him she was pregnant with Sammy.  
  
“Oh fuck,” Dean whispers, his eyes sliding closed as he clings to his little brother, his mate.  
  
His pregnant mate.

 


End file.
